


Life As We Know It

by Sulwen



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-03
Updated: 2011-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU.  Adam and Tommy have been working in the same restaurant for ages, but they've never really talked before.  This is the night that changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life As We Know It

Tommy sighed and looked at the clock. Quarter to ten...only fifteen minutes left before the restaurant would be closed and they could all relax. Around him, everything was starting to shut down, sauce bins being pulled out of their holders and covered with plastic wrap, heat lamps being turned off, floors being swept and mopped and left to dry. He pulled the hat off his head, swiped one arm of his chef coat across his sweaty forehead, and shoved the hat back on, grabbing a towel and starting the long process of cleaning the grill in front of him. Surely there wouldn't be another table, and even if there was, they were totally gonna order pasta or salad or hell, maybe just drinks, surely they wouldn't want steak...or chicken...or...

Just then, Andy, the guy who stood next to him and spent all day cooking chicken parm and lasagna, started muttering angrily under his breath, and Tommy closed his eyes and cursed himself for starting early. He turned around and looked out through the cooling heat lamps into the dining room, and _fuck._ That was like eight people walking in, at ten minutes to close. He narrowed his eyes and thought hateful things in their direction, and watched as the last sever on the floor started to bring them drinks.

Five minutes later, there was a face in the window, smiling ruefully back at them. “Sorry guys, I know it's late. I'll try to get 'em out fast, ok?”

Tommy didn't talk to the servers that much – none of the kitchen staff did. There was front of house and back of house, and usually a grumpy executive chef acting as the go-between. But they _all_ knew who Adam was. There was just something about the guy that attracted attention, and there wasn't a day that went by without Tommy hearing the hostesses giggling over him or the other servers bitching about how many regulars he had or the managers talking about what a good worker he was.

As Adam put his order in and walked away, Andy leaned in toward Tommy and said, “Fuckin' fag better move his ass. Mikey's going away thing is tonight. We got places to be, man.”

Tommy wrinkled his nose a little at the slur – Adam seemed like a nice enough guy to him, and there were _lots_ of gay servers. He had never understood what the big deal was. But he just nodded and turned to throw a couple strips on the grill, moving the conversation in a different direction. “Next door, right?”

“Yeah. You're coming, ain'tcha? Think the whole fucking store is gonna show up.”

Tommy shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Man, they're doing dollar drafts tonight! Can't miss that.”

The spatula flipped back and forth in his hands as he thought about it. Tommy really didn't have a lot of friends at work...any, actually. The guys were all right to work with, but he never really wanted to hang out with them after. It had taken a long time to get in with them in the first place, because no matter how much Tommy tried, he was always gonna be kinda little and kinda girly looking, and he just didn't really fit in with this crowd. But it was a good job and he'd stuck it out, and the guys were pretty much used to him now as long as he kept quiet and laughed at their jokes. Mikey was a good guy, though, and Tommy was sorry to see him transferring. He should probably at least show up for a little while.

“Yeah, ok. But I probably won't stay that long – gotta be back here at ten tomorrow.”

Andy snorted. “Don't we all?”

*

The bar was crowded, mostly with people he knew, servers in white dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up, kitchen staff in dirty logo t-shirts. Tommy weaved his way through the crowd and got the bartender's attention, feeling immediately better as soon as he got a beer in his hand. He found Mikey and talked to him for a couple minutes, your basic goodbye and good luck, and ended up in his usual position during this sort of thing – sitting at the bar, drinking, in the middle of a crowd but not _part_ of it. He just wasn't good at the social thing.

Tommy had just made up his mind to leave when he heard a loud noise coming from behind him, people shouting, glass crashing into the floor. He spun around on his stool and saw the crowd parting in front of him, and through the mass of people was...Adam. Adam on the floor, broken glass sparkling around him. And standing over him was – who else? Andy. And a whole fucking bunch of his back-of-house buddies. Awesome.

Adam hauled himself to his feet and got right up in Andy's face, more pissed off than Tommy had ever seen him. “What the _fuck,_ asshole?” he snarled.

Andy just crossed his arms and twisted his face into a look of disgust that made Tommy feel sick. “Maybe you should watch where you're walking, you fuckin' fairy.”

And suddenly Tommy was off his stool and forcing himself in between the two – much, much larger – guys, just as Adam was starting to throw a punch and Andy's buddies were starting to circle around him. He pushed back against Adam, trying to get some distance between all of them, and Adam went, his face shifting from anger to surprise to confusion in about three seconds flat.

“Um...” Adam started, but Tommy didn't give him a chance to finish.

“You just chill,” Tommy said, surprised at himself a little but too angry to really think about it right now. He turned around and glared at the group of guys standing there and pushed away the part of him that was screaming about how this was a _really really_ bad idea, because guess what, they still all had to go to work together tomorrow.

Andy sneered. “Always knew you liked the cock, Tommy. That where you go on your breaks, blowing this guy out behind the dumpster?”

 _“Fuck you,”_ Tommy said, spitting the words like acid. “Get with the times, asshole. Just because you're a fucking backwoods redneck doesn't mean you can treat people like shit, and I'm sick of listening to it.”

“And maybe I'm sick of watching him eyefuck every guy who comes in here.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes. “Paying kinda close attention there, aren't you? Something you wanna tell us, Andy?”

And oops, maybe that had been a little too far, because suddenly Andy's eyes went hot and crazy. Tommy didn't think, just made a run for the door, because the guy really was a _lot_ bigger than him, and he wasn't much of a fighter anyway.

Outside, the air was bitingly cold, and Tommy's jacket was still inside, thrown over the stool he'd been sitting next to – but there was no way in hell he was going back in there, not after all that. He wrapped his arms around himself and bowed his head and wondered when exactly he'd gotten so fucking stupid.

“Hey!” A shout came from behind him, and he glanced up, startled, hoping he wasn't about to get his face bashed into the ground by a group of half-drunk angry cooks.

Instead, he turned to see a pair of startling blue eyes and a shock of messy black hair – Adam. He was carrying Tommy's leather jacket in one hand, and he held it out carefully, as if he wasn't sure what Tommy's reaction would be.

Tommy cleared his throat, uncomfortable all of a sudden, and took the jacket back, sliding into it quickly to escape the worst of the wind. “Um...thanks,” he muttered, not really knowing what to say.

Adam shook his head, eyes wide. “No, thank _you!_ I really need this job, and I don't know what would have happened if I'd hit him. You're...Tommy, right?”

“Yeah. And you're Adam.”

Adam put out his hand, and Tommy moved to shake it. Then he stopped, eyes caught on Adam's fingers. “Shit, you're bleeding! Here, let me see...” He stepped closer and grabbed Adam's hand, cradling it and turning it from side to side, inspecting the damage.

“It's nothing. I must have caught a little bit of the glass when I was standing up...” Adam said dismissively.

Tommy raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Dude, this looks painful as fuck. My apartment's only like a two minute walk away. Come in and at least wash it or something...that floor was really nasty.”

Adam hesitated for a second, but then he looked down at the blood starting to well up in the palm of his hand and sighed. “Ok. Lead the way,” he said, and Tommy nodded and started off, cutting through the nearly-empty parking lots toward home.

*

Tommy's apartment was tiny and messy, kind of embarrassingly so, but Adam didn't say a word, just followed Tommy to the kitchen and let him run his hand under hot water, lifting it up every few seconds to check for glass stuck in the skin. It was cold, not as cold as outside, but still fairly cool, and the contrast of the hot water sent chills through Tommy's body. They didn't speak until after Tommy had dug up some gauze and medical tape, left over from when he'd had that bad burn on his palm when he'd tripped and caught himself on the grill.

Adam watched Tommy wrap the soft white gauze over and over his hand in gentle circles. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Thank you.”

Tommy glanced up and smiled a little. “No problem. You can't work with a fucked-up hand – believe me, I've tried.”

“No, I mean...well yeah, thank you for this too, but...thank you for standing up for me. You really didn't have to do that.”

Tommy flushed and looked back down, focusing on taping the bandage up securely. “Just sick of their shit,” he mumbled.

Adam sighed. “They say that kind of thing a lot?”

“It's bullshit, man. I think half of them don't even believe it, like they couldn't care less who you fuck, you know? But you don't know how it is back there...some of these guys have been here for fifteen years, and they kinda...set the tone or something. And everyone else goes along with it. And I just...I don't wanna do that anymore,” Tommy said, clipping the end of the tape and smoothing it down with his fingertips.

When he looked up, Adam was smiling at him, and his eyes were warm, happy, _alive_ like Tommy had never seen them at work before. “Good for you. I mean, _really._ That's...that's kind of amazing that you'd go against them like that.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it's awesome. Not that I really like work anyway, but now I get the rest of them purposely trying to give me shit. Good on me.”

“Tommy?”

“What?” Tommy said sharply, almost snapping at Adam and feeling bad about it instantly. It wasn't Adam's fault.

“You can let go of my hand now.”

Tommy glanced down and realized that...oh...his fingers were still running back and forth over Adam's bandaged palm, almost a fucking _caress,_ and why was he doing that again? He jerked his hand back and forced himself to meet Adam's eyes. “Sorry.”

Adam smiled. “It's ok.”

“I'm straight,” Tommy blurted out, feeling like an idiot.

“Ok.” Adam's smile didn't fade a bit. Instead, he brought his hand up to look at Tommy's makeshift first aid job. “Thank you. Again. It would have been hard to do that on my own.”

And Tommy thought that this was probably the part where he was supposed to say you're welcome and hey I'll see you at work tomorrow and have a good night. Instead, he bit his lip and scooted his chair back and went to the fridge, pulling the door open and looking inside. “Um, you want a drink? You didn't really get to have the one you paid for earlier...” he asked.

Adam laughed. “Yeah, and it's a shame. They do great cocktails at that place. Uh, sure. Whatever you have is fine.”

Tommy pulled a beer out of the fridge and handed it to Adam, and then took one for himself and headed into the living room, falling onto the sofa and turning the TV on as Adam followed him. It was the same old late-night shit that was always on, but it was better than sitting in silence. Adam sat on the other end of the couch, and Tommy started flipping channels. Eventually, he found one of the music channels – actually playing music, for once – and just left it, watching the videos play themselves out across the screen.

Adam made a small humming noise that Tommy didn't quite understand, a little bit sad, maybe, and Tommy glanced over at him. “Um...this ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, fine. It's just...this is totally what I would be doing if I wasn't stuck working here.”

“Making music videos?”

Adam laughed. “No! Well, probably not. Just...performing. I like to sing.”

And at that, Tommy perked right up, turning so that he was facing Adam more than the TV. “Yeah? That's awesome. I used to play guitar, but I haven't played in a long time. I work all the fuckin' time, and when I get home I'm too tired to do anything, really.”

Adam looked at him sympathetically. “I know exactly how you feel. Were you any good?”

Tommy shrugged. “I was decent...I still have my guitar around here somewhere, I think.”

“You should find it! I have this friend that keeps bugging me about trying to start a little jam band...oh, but he plays guitar...you don't play bass by any chance, do you?” Adam asked hopefully.

“Um...no...but I could learn,” Tommy replied.

Adam's face lit up in a bright grin, and he went back to rambling about his friend and what kind of music they'd want to do and some of the local venues they'd checked out, and Tommy sipped his beer and nodded and felt actually pretty fucking excited.

It was like four in the morning and an uncertain amount of beers later the next time Tommy looked at the clock, and he couldn't even remember the last time he'd talked this much. His throat actually kind of hurt, but it was totally worth it, because as it turned out Adam was pretty much the most awesome person on the planet, and Tommy couldn't believe they'd worked just feet apart for so long without him ever realizing this.

Adam followed his gaze to the clock and groaned loudly. “Oh my god, how is it so late? Work is gonna suck so bad in the morning...and shit, I still gotta drive home.”

“Dude, you can sleep on the couch if you want...I mean, you gotta come back to work in just a couple hours anyway, right?” Tommy offered, leaning forward a little unsteadily and patting said couch firmly. “It's pretty comfortable.”

Adam scooted toward Tommy and bounced a little, as if testing it out. “Um...ok. If you really don't mind?”

“It's totally fine. I don't mind at all,” Tommy said, and Adam grinned again, and oh, hello, since when was Adam's face _right there?_

Adam brought his hand – the non-injured one – up, and let it rest on Tommy's cheek, petting him softly. Then he said, “You're so sweet. Sweet pretty little Tommy. I like you.”

And Tommy wanted to laugh, because Adam was clearly silly drunk now, but instead he licked his lips and thought about how good Adam's hand felt on his cheek, big and warm and soft. “I like you too, Adam.”

And then Adam came closer, and his lips brushed Tommy's, so gently that Tommy could almost have thought he was imagining it, but then Adam's tongue was licking out, hot over Tommy's lips, and Tommy was opening his mouth to let Adam in, let him deepen the kiss, and oh, was that him moaning?

Adam pulled back and giggled and said in a sleepy, happy voice, “Good night kisses! My favorite!”

Then he stretched out on the couch and let his head fall right into Tommy's lap, using his thigh as a pillow, and before Tommy could say one word of protest, he was fast asleep. Tommy stared down at him, wondering how exactly he was gonna get to his own bed without waking Adam, how exactly he had managed to get into this situation in the first place. Wondering why he let Adam kiss him like that. Wondering why he didn't pull away.

Eventually, he fell asleep right there, with his head tilted back against the couch and one hand resting on Adam's head, a little bit freaked out and a little bit nervous about going back to work, but mostly just excited, because for the first time in a long time, tomorrow felt like it really had the chance to be a better day.


End file.
